This can't happen again.

I don't know what happened, but it wasn't the first time. It's just been a long time since it last happened, and I can't afford for it to happen again.

It was at work, right before break, and my whole left side went completely numb. Not just my arms and legs but the left side of my chest, head, lips, eye, everything. I had difficulty speaking. I could understand what was being said, and I could form responses in my mind but those responses wouldn't come out. Or they would, but with incorrect words. (For instance, I remember trying to say "diminish" and all that would come out was "dissention".) On top of all that, I was dizzy and somewhat disoriented, to make the episode completely and totally unpleasant and worrisome. A few foremen saw me and asked if I should go home but with all that bullshit Les and Julian gave me I wasn't going to risk it. It's not like I was working off of a boomlift or a ladder. So I stayed with it, and inexplicably it left just as suddenly right during lunch time. The entire episode was about 3 hours total.

Devar took me aside and said I need to take care of it, and I called my hematologist and left a message. I hope this was completely isolated. I've been having a feeling of general malaise for a few weeks now though, so maybe it was cumulative.

X-fer'd, redux.

Right in the beginning of my shift, Julian told me to give back my radio, gather my hand tools up, and head down to the third floor. I didn't think anything of it. But when I got to the manlift I saw Tim, our general foreman, and he said, "You've been transferred to Devar's crew, so see what project he wants to put you on and take care of getting the rest of your tools later." I have no idea why I was transferred, but I'm loving it. Devar told me I can get my maid's cart tomorrow, he just had me working with Jerry and Toni on headboards today. My new foreman is laid back, informative, and he doesn't mind showing me things. He doesn't mind explaining. Finally.

Happy things.

My sister reminded me that I should look for something that made the day of Gabriel's birth happy or funny or positive, even if for a minute. Just to prove that it wasn't completely depressive. And of course I could list all the obvious things: I was a mother for a brief time, all that...but there is a funny story:

Tannah and I have a little tiny dog, she's a Schipperke poodle who's a little goofy and very headstrong. While I was in the hospital my parents offered to watch her, so Tannah could stay with me instead of having to worry about going home to feed her, walk her, all that. Well, after my contractions had gotten pretty close the anesthesiologist came in to give me all these reasons why he couldn't give me an epidural. And he was speaking so slowly, and asking me detailed questions about my past medical history. Well, when you're in pain, you aren't exactly thinking clearly. So in the middle of this, Tannah gets a phone call.

It was a woman who found our Pepper shivering outside of the front door of a house whose address didn't match the tag. So she called the number and Tannah knew Pepper was supposed to be with my parents but didn't know their home address off-hand. so he asked me.

So here I am, screaming, cursing, hating the anesthesiologist, asnwering his questions, and Tannah butts in with, "What's your parents' address?" and I don't remember what I said, but I'm sure it was crude, and mean-spirited, and I'm sure the woman heard it. After the hellacious contraction subsided and I could think again, I rattled it off, and it turns out Pepper was at my parents' front door...she had obviously escaped, and then decided against it.

Maybe that story isn't funny to anyone else but me, but the irony in timing was superb.

Happy birthday, Gabriel.

My son would have been a year old, today. I'm thankfully numb for the most part; I did have PV class scheduled today but I called my instructor and he said I could come in Tuesday after work, since he was going to be in anyway. I just can't help thinking what Gabriel might have been like. I should be planning the final parts of his birthday party, and I'm sitting here, in an empty house, one that's especially empty today. And I feel guilty for gaining so much after his death: we bought a house, and a new car; Tannah and I both really grew up and we're closer now than ever, and the doctors were finally able to diagnose me.

I know inside that somehow, it was meant to be. Neither of us would have likely survived if I went to term. And the timing...he could have been born before the wedding. Or the day of. He could have been born after school started. Things could have been so much more complicated. Or, he could have survived long enough to experience the pain of being hooked up to machines for his entire existance, and then died.

But no. He was born on a Friday morning, this day last year. I remember seeing his mouth open, evidence that he struggled to breathe for a few minutes, and he died quietly. I remember the look in Tannah's eyes, at Gabriel's birth, at the realization he was a boy (we had been told he was a girl), and at his death. I remember feeling guilty for being the cause of that. And guilty at being so exhausted both physically and emotionally to stay awake much longer after they dressed him and gave me his box. Alot of people don't seem to realise that just because he was premature, it doesn't mean it wasn't a "real" birth. I went through labour, and intense contractions, and he was born as other children are born. He just didn't live very long.

It still hurts more than I can say. My friend Dover, who is in a pipes band, said they are playing tonight and she's putting in a request for The Bells of Dunblane for Gabriel. It's the perfect choice.

What a day.

I've done fuck-all today, which was partly due to the fact that I'm not allowed to cut drywall per contract, and partly due to the fact that somehow I was magically transported to some kind of fascist police-state. Let me explain.

[Background info:] Since the middle of the month, I've been working on moving and finding receptacles in the west-side A-suites. Finding them is easy; sometimes other trades just forget to cut an opening out of the wallpaper or drywall for it. And, usually, moving receptacles isn't hard either. But for some reason, in order for me to move these boxes, in some cases the entertainment centers had to be removed from the walls, or the doors had to be dismantled and moved. Per contract, I can cut a small hole in drywall if it's square to the studs. But for what I had to do included removing parts of the entire wall, so we had to place a request for removal, all kinds of foolishness. And in one case, I'll have to install splicer boxes just to be able to reroute our cables.

On to the story.

First thing in the morning, I was asked to slip-sheet my foreman's prints. It's where you integrate newer revisions with originals or as-builts. He had this huge stack of architechturals, electricals, audio-visuals, and tele-data prints, all smeared around a huge pile of discarded framing members. Upside down, backwards, torn...it's amazing how guys won't take care of something so vital to construction. (And for the record, this isn't how my foreman keeps his prints; Julian is meticulous, it's the guys on our crew that fling them about.) So I spent no less than 2 hours separating them, and organizing, when Julian asked me to walk through inspection with him. Several floors were inspected (headboards, elevator lobby, and walls & celilings) with relatively few touch-ups needed, but still, it takes time. So about an hour later, when I returned to my prints, they were on the floor in a ball. I'm not kidding. Another hour I was on top of it, but the A-V's were missing, and it turns out a journeyman went through and took all of them out, since "apprentices aren't supposed to have prints" and he needed them. I convinced him finally to let me have them back so I could update them, and by noon (halfway through my shift) I had it all organised onto one stick. And there were complaints that they weren't separated onto two sticks, so likely I'll come in to work Monday and see them on the floor again. Typical.

About that time I learned of a new rule, from our apprenticeship hall. Classes--which are mandatory for remaining in the apprenticeship--start at 16h30. Our shift ends at 16h30, and lunch therefore is at 14h00. Since "normal" jobsites leave for the day at 14h30, apprentices decided to leave at 14h00...we were leaving at lunch, able to go home, take a shower, and get something to eat before classes, whcih don't let out until 21h30. I guess it was pissing off a few foreman (at least one in particular) so the official rule now is no apprentice can leave before 15h30. Granted, our school is close to 20 miles away from the jobsite. With good traffic, one can get there in about 40 minutes. So, today was the day for first-year classes, all of whome left their books etc at home, thinking they could go at lunch. But they weren't allowed, because of the memo. So while many of them took a tardy to class, one of the instructors (Les, my former foreman) left at lunch. You know, to take a shower, get something to eat, feel refreshed before a 5-hour class period. He sets a great example. In the meantime, he didn't even give his first-year apprentice a copy of the memo to show to his instructor as an excuse for being late.

Meanwhile, after all the angry protests that ensued after hearing this, I went to work on trying to move a few more boxes. And had issues, because whoever cut the drywall didn't leave the boxes intact, so I lost my marks. "Move box 1-1/2" east." East from where?? I have no idea where that box used to be. And yet, there's still one part of the wall that needs to be moved, so I was still unable to get all I needed to get done out of the way.

At the end of the day, we had our safety meeting. Our foreman suggested that if we want the rules about leaving for class changed, we needed to contact the appropriate directors. (No worries, that was done at break.) We were also informed of the new "one-minute" rule: the general foreman and superintendent will be walking the job and if anyone is a minute late or a minute early for anything (arrival, break, lunch, or walk-out), it's a write up, as the required verbal warning was implied upon start of employment. I doubt the steward will be present. With three write-ups, it's termination without eligibility for re-hire (which is about a year in construction) and for apprentices, it means we have to see the committee and aren't allowed to take a call to a jobsite until that time. The committee doesn't meet every month, either. So it was sugested to get to the site an hour early, "to be safe". Whatever.

Not sure how to fix this:

I have a really horrible and (somewhat) childish character trait. It's embarassing to admit but no matter how often I tell myself I need to just stop, I keep on it. And what's worse, I'm not brazen enough to do it outright. I'm completely passive about it, which is pretty lame.

I have this driving need to instigate people who get too-easily worked up over their own deep-rooted anger and insecurities. I don't know why. For instance, at work, there's a guy who keeps writing "Down with Islam" on the unfinished walls at work. (That sounds worse than it is; everyone writes on the unfinished walls, it's at a construction site and it's just something that's done, period. It's all covered up in the end, no worries.) But anyway, I have the most insane urge to write "Allahu akbar" ("Praise Allah", in Arabic) underneath it. I'm not Muslim, though I did some intense studying of it in the past. I know if this guy saw me do this, I'd probably get into an uncomfortable situation, but I look at what he writes and it just screams to me...he's led by media and his own ignorance to degrade and loathe an entire group, and it disgusts me.

In the same manner, there's another guy at work who is very vocal about despising Hispanics, because "those beaners are invading my country". My own ideas of immigration (unlawful and otherwise) notwithstanding, I just don't like how he goes about voicing his discrimination. He's fluent in Spanish but refuses to let his kids learn...which is fine, really; his choice. But I have some friends at work with whom I speak Spanish, and he confronts me about "enabling" them to not have to learn English. I explained that in a nation that promotes free speech, I'm happy to speak whichever language I like, with whomever I like, wherever I like, and no one's going to stop me. Aside from that, some of them are aiming to improve their English, and when I'm trying to explain a term or meaning, sometimes it's easier to compare in their native language, then re-explain in English. I know I learn better that way. But after my explanation, he started screaming about it--not at me, he insisted, but toward me--and I'll honestly say, that urge rose again. And now I go out of my way to speak Spanish to every Hispanic guy on the jobsite, in his presence.

Tannah says I'm going to wind up getting hit. And even that's an issue...my first thought when I'm threatened with that at work is, "Go ahead, I'll own you." I think I should be afraid or something.

C'est mon anniversaire!

Aujourd'hui j'ai 28 ans....très vieille, je pense. Je me rappelle quand j'étais jeune, j'ai cru que je mourrais avant que j'aie eu 30 ans. J'ai eu ai voulu mourir, puis. Je l'ai attendu. Et maintenant, il y a seulement 2 ans jusqu'à cet âge, et 2 ans jusqu'à la remise des diplômes pour des électriciens syndiqués, aussi. Je ne veux pas mourir, vraiment. Pas en ce moment. Les choses sont bonnes, la plupart du temps. Mais toujours, j'examine ma vie et vois très peu. Je ne vois aucun avenir. Et je me demande si je dois mourir de toute façon.

Je ne sais pas même si je veux accoucher des enfants. Le risque est trop immense. Je veux une famille, mais je ne peux pas supporter la mort d'un autre enfant. Aussi, ce qui si le détective trouve mon oncle? Je sais que je suis obligée de coopérer mais c'est quelque chose qui me donne peur. Et aussi cette pensée me donne également des désirs de faire des choses regrettables.

La vie est bonne, et Dieu est mon espoir. Mais parfois, la vie peut être si compliquée. Une autre année, ouais, mais les mêmes problèmes sont ici, toujours. Et merde alors...j'ai voulu que ce post fût heureux! (Quelle blague...)

First anniversary!

Today was a year that I've been married. I can't believe all that's happened. At first we meant to go to a show, we were thinking about seeing Penn & Teller at the Rio but finances and all...we opted to stay in, instead. We did have a leisurely lunch at the Rio, however, and that was relaxing, since we had nothing else planned. And I didn't have the heart to open the bottle of mead we got from Edinburgh Castle so we bought a bottle of Polish mead instead, and opened that. I decided I very much like mead. We were supposed to pick up the top tier of our wedding cake out of my parents' freezer but we kind of spaced it...did we really want to taste it anyway? But I feel in a way we should have held up tradition. So maybe next Sunday when I see them for my birthday, we'll pick it up. (Tomorrow's actually my birthday but I'm already having dinner with Tannah's parents that day. Next weekend will be fine, since my mom is making her famous soup! It's my request every year.)

Today was a good day. I'm happy, really, for the first time in a long time.

How do I tell you, Daddy?

I don't know how to write it, let alone say it. There's just pages of things that I avoid saying or thinking, and part of me feels it needs to be resolved. But I'm not sure it ever can be fully resolved. These aren't things I know how to admit, and I'm afraid if I do, it'll affect our relationship. I don't know how many times I wrote about it and then cancelled the e-mail before I hit "send". You like to talk face-to-face, but when? And how, if I can't bring myself to say it even here?

None of it is anything that can be possibly percieved as your fault. It has to do with things from Before, things I scarcely speak aloud, and it affects where I fit in, I guess...I feel torn between too many things, and I hide them always. I think sometimes I pull it off, and no one notices...but other times I just don't have the energy to pretend anymore. I'm not sure what to do about it. Admittedly, I'm not who I claim to be; so many other facets rule me and I'm more of a carefully crafted mask than anything else. But I don't have a choice, otherwise. To be as I truly am wouldn't allow for functionality in the acceptable sense dictated by society. Sometimes I hate what I have created myself to be, but at the same time, it comes down to choices. My choice doesn't decide whether or not I'm a decent person, it just reflects my available options at the time.

I really don't know what the fuck I'm talking about. Maybe I'll come back to this later, but I doubt it. Venting a little is enough, for now. Maybe I'll have the courage to call you or Mom (or both) later and...something, I don't know.

Solar NV

(They like to say it as if it's spelled "Solar Envy"...pretty cute.) Anyway, our photovoltaics class had a field trip to the monthly meeting of the southern Nevada chapter of the American Energy Society, referred to my members as Solar NV. Our class took up about half the seats. We impressed quite a few members, and the speaker was a representative of Sierra Pacific, which is the parent company of Nevada Power. He gave info on the state rebate program for solar and laws and regulation, alot of figures and graphs to go with it. The only thing that irritates me is the rebate program only allows for 1,900 kW per year to be installed, and the demand as it stands now is about 4 times that. Years on a waiting list...unreal. Also, they've lowered the rebate from $5 a watt to $3 a watt, and it'll go down another dollar in the next two years, for residences and small businesses only. For public buildings and schools, it's gone up from $4 a watt to $5 a watt. Thirdly, charter and private schools, and large businesses aren't eligible for the rebate program. However, the information presented there pointed me in the right direction to make our house vastly more energy efficient, so we can be on our way to going solar in under five years (providing we have the funds). So I'm excited about that.

One thing I wasn't excited about was the "surprise" visit from Nevada Senator Dina Titus. She's running for governer on the Democrat ticket and is officially endorsed by the union. Aside from not voting as the union tells me to (I can make up my own mind) I found her demeanor inappropriate and unprofessional. She made snide comments about "big power" blocking her proposals to make this state more agreeable to renewable energy, and how we need to go green, things like that. It's fine that she says those things of course, but I felt like I was being preached to, and that she was covertly attacking the representative of Sierra Pacific. But then, it's what politicians do, I guess.

I did find out though, that 2 laws were passed in Nevada, one I agree with and one I most certainly don't. These are covered under the Solar Access laws. (Authority 1 is under NRS § 111.370 et seq.; Authority 2 is under NRS § 111.239):
1. A homeowners' association cannot deny your right to erecting a solar array on your property.
2. If you have an existing array and your neighbour wants to plant a tree that will block the sun or build an addition to his house that would interfere with irradiance to your array, he legally can't do that. That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard in my life. How is my freedom to solar power more important that his freedom to expand on property he has bought?

First day of class.

I mean annual, apprenticeship class. I've been taking mandatory extracurricular classes all summer.

So, my instructor is Javier, the same one I worked with at Red Rock right before the grand opening. He's laid back and I've heard from his former students that he's pretty thorough. Ryan and Cliff are in my class, who I get on well with, plus Paul from my crew and CJ, who was in my class 2nd year and who was on the same crew with me when Les was my foreman. Also Hawk, who I worked with for awhile. Honestly, though, they integrated an extra class in this year so many of these people I've never met. But it's okay...no one really wants to be there 5 hours every Wednesday night, so we all do what we can to make things interesting.

Since this is the first year the school has done 5 hours a night for class, everyone's running into problems. For most classes, it's just a matter of how many breaks should be allowed and how exactly to stretch the study material over that amount of time. However, the 5th year classes are seriously having issues...they might not graduate on time. It's a requirement they spend 25% of their total class time at the monthly union meeting, plus they have to fit in F-card training and foreman classes, plus their regular course material, plus review for the JATC wireman exam and the Clark County journeyman exam...there simply isn't enough time. So they might have to go extra days a week. That's common for 1st year classes (it's hard to grasp basic aspects of Ohm's Law and such if you've never done it) but 5th year...that's supposed to be the easy, laid-back year. So I feel a little apprehensive, actually. Hopefully they'll straighten things out by the time I finish this year, and my 5th year will be what everyone says it's supposed to be.

Una verdad madreada.

Todavía estoy enferma, creo...tengo un fuerte tos pero nada más, gracias a Dios. Para unos últimos días, yo he estado pensando de suicidio... mi propio suicidio, no; pero de mis amigos que tienen problemas, y desean terminar todo. Yo recuerdo tales veces: yo me sentía perdida, tan sola, desesperada. Y ahora, yo miro a mis amigos con sensaciónes iguales. Una pensamiento: "Nadie carece una buena razón para el suicidio" -- Cesare Pavese. ¿Es eso verdad? Por supuesto. Cualquier persona desesperada que quiere destruir el regalo más precioso (la vida) tiene una razón extraordinaria, incluso si la gente piensa que es una idea egoísta, o inmoral, o absurda. A la persona afectada, tiene sentido. Es lo que no entienden los doctores, a veces.

La cura mágica no es siempre medicación, ni hablar del trauma repetidamente, o volviéndolo a vivir...no ayuda, siempre. A veces, saber una solución no calma la mente. Una persona necesita un amigo real que le escuchará. Un amigo que no le juzgará. Eso es tan raro, un hallazgo fortuito. ¿Quizás un regalo de Dios? Creo que sí. Ay...estoy rezando.

Is this accurate?

I've been called many things in respect to my beliefs: malinchista, Euro-centrist, even conservative socialist (huh??)...now the truth comes out, supposedly. Not sure how I feel about it; I'm Republican only in the major platforms. I've been searching for a party that "fits" me for the last 6 or so years. And honestly, after some intense research, this one fits me in most aspects:

You are a Social Liberal (70% permissive) and an... Economic Conservative (63% permissive) You are best described as a: Libertarian Check out: The Politics Test on Ok Cupid

Two and a half years.

I can't believe I've been with a contractor that long, especially as an apprentice. I don't know what I'll do if I get rotated. Or, God forbid, I turn out with them, and take my first call at the Hall! It's a thought that makes me a little nervous.

Addict.

Embarassing. I got called an addict at work, during break, for my caffeine habit. So much they gave me an intervention and made comments like, "Are you going to trace out your veins, too?" Ouch. I didn't think it was really a problem but one girl said if I need it to function, it's a problem. And really, I do. I take energy shots and stack caffeine pills with aspirin or Excedrin so it absorbs faster. And If I run out mid-week, I'd rather be late to work so I can make sure I have some "just in case" rather than risk a day without it. I hesitate to call myself an addict...that's such a loaded word. But still.

I told Tannah, then. If he knows the problem, I won't be able to get away with it anymore. I was surprised he already knew. But he did, and didn't go off on me. Which is good. I don't want to throw any of it away, though. And I know that's a bad sign but I feel somewhat justified. I keep thinking that it's not a real addiction. But secretly I know it is. I know I have to work on it but it's tough when it's so readily available, more so than cigarettes and the like. I can't smoke in certain public places and I can't down a few beers at work. But I can have a Pepsi anytime, anywhere.

Frustrating.

PV 2

Beginning now with the second installment of the photovoltaics class. This one is more in-depth; we're learning how to track the sun, design arrays, calculate solar efficiency. Very interesting, but there's more homework involved, too. I'm involved not only because, hey, I think everyone would like to never see a power bill again, but aside form that, it's so going to be the way of the future. Either we'll run out of present resources (not anytime soon) or they'll become so vastly exorbitant that no one can feasibly afford them. We're lucky, here in the desert...our price is only about 11 cents per kilowatt-hour. What will that be in 5 years? Or ten years? I shudder to think.

Right now Germany and Japan far exceed the US in solar power. They have it worked out right now that they are giving back to the grid more than they use, which is awesome. I'd like to see the US follow that trend.

I'm just happy that I'm learning something useful and interesting, both. I'd like to get on the solar crew once I turn out, and really get some more hands-on with installations and troubleshooting. I don't think our current home can tolerate full photovoltaic support but maybe with a little retrofitting, we can make it happen. I'd really like to look into that.

Choices: a rant.

Daily, every one of us have choices to make. Serious, important, random, inconsequential, it doesn't matter. It's a part of life. Some of us regret our choices, some are breathlessly thankful we made them. It's really irritating me, lately, those that think choices make up a person's worth. It's ridiculous to me that someone thinks he's better simply because he made a choice I didn't. Or that he even had the opportunity to make that choice.

I respect alot of different people: educators that give freely, truth-seekers, parents that care, law enforcement that try to do what's right, soldiers torn to make a proper decision when there is none, true friends...in a sense, choices brought these people to be who they are. But a choice doesn't make a man. Integrity, honesty, loyalty, valor, selflessness, faith, compassion...those are the the strengths of greatness. Not choices.

You are not better than me because you are a veteran. You are not better than me because you drive a luxury car. You are not better than me because of your lineage, your heritage, your nationality, your country club social life, your schooling, or your profession. You are not better than me because you donate to great causes or mentor children. You are not better than me because of your political affiliation or religious views.

In all this, we're the same. I don't care about any of that. I have awesome friends that fit every mold above, and some who are breaking those molds. Yes, it's possible for someone to be friends with--and respect--others who think radically different. What counts isn't a choice made or a deed done. It's the soul, the unique character, the quintessence each of us possesses. Without that, we're nothing, anyway, no matter what we do in life.

Slammed.

I have been so freaking ill the past few days, it isn't funny. Dizzy, numb, headache, incredible fatigue...I fell asleep on the ladder at work. Finally, I'm getting better. It sucks, though, because today Misty, a carpenter apprentice from work, was supposed to come with me to a French bistro today. (It's the one Tannah won't go to because he thinks the waiter was flirting with me. Speaking French in a French bistro isn't flirting, in my opinion. Granted, he did wink, but it wasn't after saying anything suggestive.) So this illness hit me really hard, and it wound up screwing my weekend, really. Which is especially awful, since for the next three weeks I'll have photovoltaics class on Saturdays.

Speaking of class, I've done a few lessons for the school year that starts in 2 weeks. Not difficult but definitely time-consuming. I think I made the wrong choice in applying to be a wireman. I should have been a telecommunications installer-tech. What they're learning is so much cooler: biometric security systems, photosensor devices, computer-relay SMART house automation...I really would have liked that. And, installer-techs don't dig trenches, either. But, ah well, the decision was made. Instead of that, this year I learn motor controls and programmable logic controls. Yay.

Evaluation today.

Every month, apprentices are given reviews by either their foremen or their journeymen. Julian hasn't assigned me to a journeyman, so he did my review. I was really expecting the worst, but it wasn't nearly so bad as I expected.

The lowest score I got was a 6...that's about mid-average. That was for ability to learn. He says as a 4th year, I should really know all the basics, and the fact that I don't shows fault in the contractor (for not selecting appropriate crews for me) and fault also in me (for being pregnant, I suppose, and the health problems that followed that caused me to miss so much work). I'm not thrilled about my evaluation but still, much better than I hoped for, even. The one piece of advice Julian extended to me was that as a journeymen, I have to know what I'm doing. I need to have aim and direction. A foreman doesn't like constant questions; he wants to lay out his men and let them handle it. I can understand that. But at the same time, I think it's a foreman's job to guide his men, too. But hey, what do I know? I'm just an apprentice.

On a creepy side-note, I had lunch with one of the guys today, in the room we were both working in. I was roping, he was mounting lights. He had brought burritos (which are excellent, his wife makes them) and offered me one. I'm not one to turn down food, especially free, homemade food. So I had one. It was lengua. For anyone who doesn't know, that means tongue in Spanish. It was okay, as far as tongue goes but...still, it was tongue. Kinda overly chewy. Still, I was grateful. They only thing is, he took his belt off "to get comfortable" but to me, that was a little too comfortable. I didn't say anything but it's not like we were enclosed, either. Maybe I'm a prude.